I'll Do Something
by Tobias Charity
Summary: Slash--Josh/Sam "Sam, I--it wasn't supposed to be like that--it wasn't--" Josh miscalculates the distance and winds up falling harder than he planned for.


Title: I'll Do Something (1/2)  
  
Author: Tobias Charity  
  
Rating: This part? PG-13, maybe R, depends on your sensibilities. Next part is NC-17 all the way. In case it slipped by you the first time, this is SLASH. Two adult men in a homosexual relationship. If that ain't your bag, baby, boogie on over to the sappy J/D stuff.  
  
Summary: "Sam, I--it wasn't supposed to be like that. It wasn't--"  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own them. Sorkin simply lets me borrow them for a while as long as I return them. Whoops, they're still sticky from last time? Sorry, Sork...  
  
Archives: Help yourself, just mail me first.  
  
Feedback: is my life's blood. writer525@hotmail.com, or aim me at writersblock525.  
  
Author's Note: According to some of my guy friends (the ones who aren't gay), the idea of two guys going at it is one of the most off-putting things in the entire world to heterosexual guys. So why would the idea be any different to Josh or Sam, at least in the beginning? Oh, and, uh, this was originally written for the January SoTU challenge. I'm just really slow. Sorry for the crossposts.  
  
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"Sam, CJ wants a word."  
  
I say nothing, only peel off my reading glasses and rub furiously at my weary eyes. It's three am on a Wednesday morning, and snow has been falling heavily outside since nine o'clock last night. Most of the staff actually listened to the warnings on the radio and bolted before they could be trapped, but not us. Not the legally insane ones.  
  
"Sam, did you hear me?"  
  
Flinging my glasses down on the desk, I stand up and stretch. "Yeah. Yeah, I heard you. It's way too late, Ginger, go home."  
  
"You know, Sam, I would, except for the fact that--"  
  
"There's now six inches of snow on the ground, with a wind chill of minus seven and ice warnings," I finish, quoting the weatherman. "Yeah, I've been watching the weather channel. Ring CJ and tell her I'm gonna grab some coffee, and I'll be right there."  
  
"Will do." She turns and heads back to the bullpen, high heels making soft, muffled thuds on the carpeted floor.  
  
I save the draft I was working on, then shut down and lock my terminal. Hours of staring at a blinking cursor are beginning to take their toll on me; if I need to write more tonight, I'll just scribble it on a legal pad. Something about having the familiar shape of a pen in your hand and hearing the calming scratch of the point across the paper is so much more gratifying, instead of the cold, inhuman clacking of the keyboard.  
  
"Hey, Toby, I'm going over to CJ's office for a minute, I should be back soon. You want coffee or anything?" I poke my head into his office, but he doesn't even look up; he just waves me away, mumbling something incomprehensible.  
  
"Yeah." I wheel around and stalk into the bullpen, pour myself a cup of congealed coffee, and head off in the direction of CJ's office.  
  
"Spanky! You made it!" CJ looks absolutely thrilled to see me, but I'm afraid I can't say the same. "Come in, come in, grab a beer, have a seat."  
  
"A beer?" I say dubiously, edging into the room and sitting gingerly on the couch. She's far to ecstatic for three am, and I'm beginning to think it has something to do with the four empty beer bottles lined up on the edge of her desk. "CJ, it's nearly three thirty. In the morning, I might add."  
  
"And we're all working overtime and it's snowing insanely out, so why not have ourselves a little fun?"  
  
"You--" I say, pointing at her. "Are officially smashed. And I--" I stand up and make for the door. "Am leaving and am going to try and salvage some work out of this useless night in."  
  
"Sit, dammit! You're not leaving 'til I say so." CJ fixes me with that terrible glare of hers and I freeze, then slink slowly back to the couch like a dog caught on the good carpet.  
  
"Now then," CJ says, tilting back in her chair and steepling her fingers in front of her, smirking slightly. "Time to play twenty questions."  
  
"Oh, hell..." I can't help but groan. First a mumbling, incomprehensible Toby, and now a drunk CJ wanting to play therapist. What's next? I walk in on Josh and Donna in the men's bathroom doing something unthinkable? Frankly, what with the way everyone's going stir-crazy, it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest.  
  
"You and Josh, Skippy. What's up with you and Josh?"  
  
Oh, hell. Does she know? Should I tell her? It'd be embarrassing for Josh, but considering...considering what he did, well, I'm certain it'd be good to embarrass him just a little. "Me and Josh?" I ask carefully, just to be certain that we're on the same wavelength.  
  
"You know..." She waves one long fingered hand vaguely in the air. "You two used to be attached at the hip, and yesterday was the first time in about four months I've seen you voluntarily go into his office and actually *talk* with him." She hops up out of her chair, grabs two beers from the fridge, and plops down next to me on the couch, handing me one of the beers.  
  
"CJ," I say pointedly, getting the feeling that this discussion was close to spinning wildly out of my control. "I talk with Josh nearly every day." I take the beer and snap off the cap with the makeshift bottle opener, then down half of the bottle in one gulp. "But if you want to know," I say slyly, deciding that no true girl can resist good gossip and that the backdoor approach would be the best way to tell her.  
  
"Oh, yes, do tell," she says, grinning conspiratorially and slightly drunkenly. "I love a good story."  
  
"Well, considering that you're sloshed and there's no way you'll remember..." I say slowly. "Well. The truth is, Josh came onto me a few months ago--"  
  
"Wait wait wait," she coughs, choking on her beer and wiping the liquid off her face with her sleeve. Every the lady, our CJ. "Josh *came onto you?*"  
  
I nod. "Yah."  
  
"'Splain."  
  
So I do.  
  
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"Sam, you goin' home for the night?" Josh swings around the corner into my office, quirking an eyebrow at me questioningly.  
  
"Soon..." I say, tapping a few keys absently. "Why?"  
  
"'Cause Charlie and CJ backed out on me for drinks, and I hadn't asked you yet..." Josh shrugs. "You free?"  
  
"Yah." I exit out of the word processor, then peel off my glasses and rub at my weary eyes, feeling as if my vision was deserting me. "When?"  
  
Josh shrugs again, looking more nervous than usual. "Now."  
  
"Now?"  
  
"What part don't you comprehend? The N, the o, or the w?"  
  
"All of it." I grin at him, shut down the terminal and stand up, grabbing my coat from the post as I walk by it. "Let's go."  
  
Over an hour later we're sitting across from each other in a smoky, rowdy bar, each of us nursing our third drinks.  
  
"We're goin' to be sick t'morrow mornin'," Josh slurs slightly, propping his chin on his hand and sipping at his scotch.  
  
"It's worth it," I say, doing likewise. "Time s'it?"  
  
He glances at his watch. "Nine thirty. You wanna head home?"  
  
I finish off the rest of my drink. "Think I'm drunk 'nuff." I slap a couple bills on the table and stand, shrugging into my coat. "You comin'?"  
  
"Yeah." Josh peels a few bills off of a roll and sets them on the slick surface of the booth. "Let's go."  
  
We wave goodbye to the bartender and head out the door, and are hit by a frigged blast of cold air. We wrap our coats tighter around ourselves and stand on the corner for a moment, our breath mingling in a pure white cloud in front of us.  
  
"Wan' me to hail you a cab?" I offer, and start to raise my hand, but Josh suddenly grabs my wrist and spins me around so that we're nearly nose to nose. There's no alcohol on his breath, so he must've been sipping diluted drinks.  
  
"Share a cab with me?" he whispers, tilting forward so that our foreheads are touching. I can't move, overwhelmed by the situation.  
  
"Josh--" I start to yank my arm back from his iron grip but he suddenly leans forward and presses his lips to mine.  
  
I jerk back and give him a harsh shove. "What the fuck's your problem?" I shout angrily, stumbling backwards, still reeling from his attempt to--to do God knows what. "What the bloody fuck, Josh?"  
  
"Sam, I--it wasn't supposed to be like that--It wasn't--" He stretches a hand out to me, an oddly scared, longing look in his eyes. "Sam, I'm sorry--"  
  
"Sorry for what, Josh?" I spit furiously. "Sorry for coming onto me? Sorry for trying to kiss your best friend?" Thoughts are screaming through my head, making it impossible to string together a remotely coherent sentence. "Why?"  
  
He starts to answer but I cut him off. "Never mind. I frankly don't want to know." The alcohol has fogged my mind just as my warm breath has fogged the chilled air and I turn to hail myself a cab, turn to get away from him and my confused thoughts.  
  
"Sam!"  
  
"Fuck off!" I yell back over my shoulder, lurching to the curb as a taxi squeals up beside me. I open the door and slide in, catching one last glimpse of Josh standing back on the corner, his raincoat flapping loosely in the brisk wind, one arm still raised in an eerie goodbye gesture.  
  
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CJ gapes at me, the open beer bottle forgotten in her hand. "He *kissed* you?"  
  
I nod, and she let's out a kind of half shriek, half laugh. "My *God*! I don't believe it!"  
  
"Believe it," I say miserably. "Josh's willingness to swing both ways lost me a friendship."  
  
"Wait--" She takes a swig from her beer and eyes me warily. "You still want to be friends, even though he tried to sodomize you?"  
  
"CJ!" I protest. "He didn't try to sodomize me. He just--kissed me."  
  
"And you're obviously not okay with that, or you would've kissed him back," she points out.  
  
"Don't think it didn't cause me a serious moment of deliberation," I say without thinking, then nearly clap a hand over my mouth. "Shit."  
  
"You *did* want to kiss him!" She shrieks, practically bouncing up and down with drunken happiness.  
  
"Calm down, CJ," I say, edging warily away from her.  
  
She leans back into the cushions of the couch and takes another long gulp from the bottle in her hand. "All right. I'm calm. But--why didn't you kiss him back?"  
  
I shrug, feeling like I'm trapped in some late night girl-gossip session. "You know--one guy kissing another--it's just kind of weird."  
  
"I find it hot," CJ throws out, and I nearly choke on my beer.  
  
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."  
  
"Good, because I'm fairly certain that I'm drunk, and nothing either of us say tonight is going to matter."  
  
"Well, that's reassuring," I say sarcastically, but she doesn't catch on.  
  
"Damn right," she nods. "Anyways, why don't you go, I dunno, kiss him back?"  
  
This time I do choke on my beer, spraying the liquid all over. "No way," I cough, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Be--" I stop and think about it for a moment. Why not, really? It's not as if any more damage could be done. It's not as if we've begun building up our relationship again, and one false move could sent the frail skeleton of it tumbling to the ground; I would hardly call a visit to Josh's office a step towards rebuilding anything.  
  
"Josh is tired, you're somewhat tipsy from the beer," CJ supplies. "If he gets pissed, blame it on too many drinks."  
  
"I've only had one, CJ," I protest.  
  
"Oh, for Chrissakes," she snaps. "Quit your quibbling and go do something."  
  
"Yeah." I stand up and head for the door, taking the still half-full bottle with me. "Yeah, I'll do something."  
  
What, though, I'm still not sure.  
  
TBC  
  
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